


Attaching the Detached

by pbndgeli



Category: geliocs, neraphine
Genre: Angst, Art, Art AU, College, Fluff, Multi, garden, maybe lol, some gay stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pbndgeli/pseuds/pbndgeli





	Attaching the Detached

“Hey, Bo, hows your piece going?” Olivia asked, distracting me from the price of the terrariums I was looking at.

“What piece?”

“The monochromatic one that’s due in a week,” Geli answered.

“Oh yeah. That one.”

Olivia asked again, “So how’s yours turning out?”

“It doesn’t exist,” I nonchalantly replied.

Geli laughed. “Wait a minute, did you not start on it yet?”

“Well, I did, but it was crap so I threw it away,” I said, inciting a gasp from my friend.

Geli simply laughed again and agreed.

“If you need help with it though, I know someone that can help you get it done,” Geli offered.

“I don’t  _ need _ anybody. Should I get a Snow White Panda plant or a Crassula?”

Geli nonchalantly replied, “Snow White Panda, but if you would like a little help, you should go to this guy named Nick, he’s-”

“The hot guy that always hangs out around the garden?” Olivia butted in.

“Basically, yeah. He’s super good at art. He’s in my class. Kind of an asshole though,” Geli warned.

“When are guys not assholes?” I monotonically replied, causing Olivia to laugh in agreement. I looked at more options of the Snow White Panda, leaning more on getting them. “Plants are so cute.”

Geli laughed. “They are.”

“You should go see Nick,” Olivia suggested. “He’s cute  _ and  _ he’s around plants,” she said with a laugh.

“Who?” I said, looking up from my phone.

“The dick I just told you about. He’s a super good artist that always hangs around the gardens,” Geli answered.

“Okay, I’ll ‘accidentally’ bump into him.”

Geli laughed, in a seemingly good mood today. “Careful, you might piss him off.”

“Should I go right now?” I asked.

“Yeah, before he heads off to art class.”

“Okay, bye,” I said and got up from the table and started walking towards the gardens.

“Byee,” Olivia said as she went back to watching her girlfriend start her art.

I never really visited the campus gardens, but I did always pass by them. It was autumn, but gosh, did the plants look alive. I looked at the entrance of the garden with its  _ glorious _ arch; the vines of a rose tightly grasping onto the white wood. You could see most of the garden from where I stood, right in front of the arch, and it was astonishing. I should go here more often.

I stepped passed the imaginary gate, into this almost otherworldly setting. The flowers coated over most of the simple green that was still alive. I walked deeper and less common plants appeared. I kept walking around, looking for the alleged “asshole” Geli was talking about. 

In one corner, at the edge of the garden, in a cut off path, the boy sat; hunched over with what looks like his art around him. It seemed to mostly be sketches of the garden as I recognized a few of the plants that I had just passed by a few moments ago.

I sat next to him, not fully aware how much larger he was. He didn’t notice me with his earphones in and strong focused doodling plants in his sketchbook. I leaned in a bit.

“What do you think, Snow White Panda plant or Crassula?”

Without looking up, he answered me. “Snow White Panda, those have a nice faded look,” he replied, his voice trailing off and eventually coming to a complete halt. He slowly took out an earbud and turned to face me. “Who the hell are you?” he asked with unexpected bitterness in his tone.

“I am basically a horticulturist and I’m asking for your opinion,” I patiently lied.

“There are tons of other students at this campus. You didn’t have to bother me,” he answered, so eager to get me to leave, but I needed help and he was my closest option.

“Well, you were the closest so.”

“I am sitting in the most isolated part of the gardens. No way in hell am I the closest. What do you want?”

“I seriously wonder how you got into this campus with that attitude,” I retorted.

“I’m a great actor,” he monotonically replied. “I can pretend to be nice to you for five minutes if you will leave me alone after.”

“I’ll take that offer, thank you.”

He smiled kindly, a look so unnatural on him. “Hi, sorry I was being rude earlier. It must’ve been hard to find me at this part of the campus. Can I help you in any way?” he asked with hints of generous thoughtfulness in his voice. He really was a good actor.

“You’re an art student in Professor Vinnerick’s class, right?”

“Yes, I actually have to head off to his class in twenty minutes. Why do you ask?”

“I’m in his class too.”

“Are you in the same class as me or the morning class?”

“Morning.”

“Did Professor Vin tell you to come to me?’

“No, I just heard good things about you and I was wondering if you could help me with this project,” I quickly spoke, not sure of how much time I had left.

He bit his lip, seemingly about to break character before smiling at me again.

“Sure, I’d love to. Can I see what you have so far?” he asked me.

“Well, it’s not something you could see?”

“Uh,” a perplexed expression formed on his face, “why not?”

“I haven’t started yet.”

He blankly stared at me for a moment before replying. “You do know that it’s due in a week right?”

“I’ve been notified earlier today.”

“What kind of concept do you have for this piece? What kind of medium do you plan to use for this? Oil, pastel, watercolor,” he asked at an almost overwhelming rate.

“Watercolor,” I simply answered.

“What are you going to paint?”

“No idea.”

“Maybe paint a plant,” he suggested.

“A Snow White Panda.”

He chuckled and he actually seemed kind at that moment. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “What color are you going to use to paint it?”

“Shades of green, I guess.” Lightbulb. “Or fifty shades of grey,” I horribly joked but causing myself to laugh. “See what I did there?”

He laughed and I wished he was genuinely this sweet.

“No, please don’t paint it with that,” he replied, a light cheery tone still present.

“But yeah, green.”

“One thing I think you could do to help would be-” he stopped, checking his phone and my heart dropped. “Woops, times up,” he nonchalantly replied, picking up his pen and continuing his doodles.

“Finish your sentence first.”

“Nope, go away,” he insisted, putting his earbud back in his ear.

“C’mon, please,” I begged.

“We had a deal. Five minutes and then you would stop bothering me.”

“But you said you’ll help me,” I pestered one more time.

“Go away,” was all he said as he turned his body away.

I sighed. “What a waste of a beautiful face.”

He turned his body away more, clearly affected by my comment, but I don’t want to bother with him anymore. I got up and started to walk out of the garden, disappointed in the boy that seemed to smell like sweet roses.

  
  


It was the following afternoon, and I sat near the overly affectionate couple as they giggled like idiots and made their lips meet so much, I wondered if their lips were tired of each other by now. I started to draw my piece, looking at a photo of the plant that I had recently bought for reference.

“So did you talk to the asshole yesterday?” Geli asked, halting the makeout session with her girlfriend.

“Yeah,” I replied, still staring down at my piece.

Olivia laughed and adjusted her cropped sweater. “He speaks,” she joked.

Geli laughed too. “Was he able to actually help?

“Yeah, only for five minutes.”

“Why?” she pestered.

“Because I could only talk to him for five minutes.”

“Well, maybe you can talk to him again today and get more help.”

“Maybe.”

“It’d be a miracle if you could.”

“Mhmm.”

“Yep,” Geli finished and kissed Olivia again, grasping on her pastel cotton candy dipped hair. Olivia smiled and made out with her some more.

The kissing noises started to irritate me so I grabbed my stuff and started walking out the campus. I passed by the garden, right behind the fence that the asshole’s private corner touched. He sat there, inking what seemed to be the Snow White Panda. If he was going to paint something of mine then gosh I’m going to paint something of his.

I left campus to grab boba and a crepe. I looked through my phone for multiple references of things in the garden  and poses. I peacefully ate up my food and when I finished up, I took out my sketchbook and started drawing too.

I drew flower boy hunched over, sketching in his book, with the wonderful garden around him. I liked this piece because unless you actually go see him in the gardens, you won’t be able to tell it’s him. Also, the way that I drew him makes him seem cruel, opposed to the sweet plants that crushed his uncaring aura.

Even though there weren’t roses next to him, I drew one anyway.

  
  
  


I didn’t go to the gardens for a day, until I decided to get my own spot. My spot was right across from his, but he didn’t notice, and it’s not like he can really kick me out. I picked up my pencil and leaned back on the fence and continued my piece.

“Hey, you,” a familiar bitter voice called out. I glanced up and he stood there, light button up and tense stance like a bookworm trying to get his book back from a bully. “Wh- Why were you drawing me the other day?”

I stared at him. “I wasn’t.”

“I saw that you were,” he defended.

“Where?”

“At that restaurant.”

“You followed me?” I asked with my pitch heightening at the end.

“No. Why the hell would I want to follow you? I’m not a creep.”

“Then why did you look at my drawing?” I harshly questioned, nearly stumbling over my own words.

“I happened to pass by you on my way out the restaurant so I glanced at it.”

“I’m an artist. I can draw whatever I want,” I retaliated.

“I don’t want you drawing me though,” he complained.

“I don’t care.”

“Why the hell not?”

“How come you were drawing the Snow White Panda, huh?”

“Because it was a really pretty plant, okay and-” he paused, “ . . . yeah.”

“Yeah. Well, now you can leave,” I spat back, picking up my pencil and continuing to draw.

“Are you even done with your monochromatic piece?”

“No.”

“You should be working on that right now, not wanting to draw stupid boys in a beautiful garden.”

And you should work on your damned attitude.

I mumbled through gritted teeth, “I am.”

I tried my best to calm myself down. I don’t want help from this douchebag anymore. I’ll get someone else to help.

  
  


I don’t know why I came back to that spot the next day. Maybe it was because it was the most peaceful place that I can work in  aside from my dorm. I passed by Nick and he was asleep with his sketchbook on his face. Just seeing him infuriated the hell out of me. I sat down in my spot and finished up the drawing for the piece.

After a little bit, I heard soft footsteps approach me and a piece of torn out sketchbook paper fell on top of my canvas. I glanced up to find rose boy walking back to his spot.

I looked down at the page he left on me and I was expecting it to be a letter telling me to get the hell out the garden, but it was filled with pen doodle attempts of the Snow White Panda plant all scribbled out. On the lower left corner, there was a simple little flower and not to far from it, in messy handwriting, he wrote something that made me wonder, who really was he?

It said on the bottom, “Sorry.”

I didn’t bother looking at him because I’d never get my work done at that rate. I just folded up the page and set it aside, his intentions towards me, still unfathomable.

  
  


A week passed by and I was able to finish up my monochromatic piece with a little help from Geli. We had started a new assignment, one that required more pieces and of course I wasn’t going to start anytime soon. 

I comfortably sat alone in my dorm, peacefully not bothering to do any work until I was disturbed by a text.

 

Geli: hey have you started on our new project

 

B: no

 

Geli: same and it doesnt help that this project is rlly hard too, i want to ask help from nick but hes been super grumpy lately

 

B: do you normally talk to him or something

 

Geli: I try to because his art is soooo good, i want to learn some pointers from him, but of course, hes an asshole

 

B: you can get help from somebody better

 

Geli: but omfg his art is so good, the other day somebody asked if they could get a commision sketch and they would pay nick $25 but he refused and said he never just gives away his art because most ppl in this school dont deserve something as nice as his art aha

 

B: he gave me his doodles

 

Geli: yeah right, ur funny

 

B: Yeah i am

 

Geli: no way in hell would u be able to get his doodles, not even his friends get his doodles

 

B: interesting

 

Geli: shiit, i rlly have to start working on my stuff now, i’ll talk to u later, see ya

 

B: see ya

 

Rose boy was really hard to understand. Why the hell would he just give me his doodles like that? I glanced at the folded up page just laying on my desk in wonder.

  
  
  


I decided to stop going to the gardens. The place kind of bored me since I didn’t need a quiet place to work anyway. I went out for food more often or just hung out with friends; I felt good.

It was a usually lunch afternoon and I sat there in the restaurant, quietly eating and checking my phone, waiting for the new guy I’m seeing to text me back. My boredness ended up making me see something else.

Nick sat there in the corner, looking down at his book, sketching something-

He looked up at me.

I froze, his eyes locking me down. He seemed to be frozen too and god, we weren’t even breathing.

We couldn’t stay like this forever so I willed my hand to wave at him and it probably was really awkward. I could’ve sworn I saw him blush or maybe it was the soft lighting- I don't know, but he went back to sketching so quick and fast. My phone then vibrated.

 

x: Hi, sorry for the late reply, was in class

x: Want to c

x: come hang out at campus*

 

I got up and left.

  
  


I needed to find something to be the subject for this assignment and fast, so I picked up my camera and headed to the garden for some inspiration. I stood in my usual spot, looking through the pictures I currently had on it. 

“Hey, why haven’t you been here in a while?”

I glanced down at him, and the slight stubble on his face distracted me. 

“What?” I replied.

“Did the apple poison you?”

“What apple?” I answered, absolutely lost.

“The poisonous one that the old evil hag gave you, Snow White.”

“I don’t remember you giving me an apple.”

“Ah, I could’ve sworn I did,” he answered, trying to play along.

“Whatever.”

There was a pause in the air, feeling so out of place, before he asked me, “Where have you been?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t know. Just so I can compare how much more I know about art.”

“Okay,” I hesitantly replied and tossed him my sketchbook.

His cheeks slightly reddened at my unexpected compliance and mumbled something before opening it and slowly flipping through it. I had a multitude of drawings in there even though I didn’t start using it until not too long ago. They were mostly of cities and buildings and places that I’ve seen. Of course I was in each and every picture because it was my story.  Nick laid down on the ground and slowly looked at each and every image, and I could feel him judging every photo from where I sat.

“What’s with this drawing of the crowd?” he asked and I immediately knew which drawing he was talking about.

“They’re all happy,” I answered, my chest tight.

“What about you?”

“Find me.”

His eyes quickly scanned the page.

“Where the hell are you?” he asked.

“I’m not telling,” and he replied with a groan.

He slowly looked through it and with a gleam in his eye, I could tell he found me.

“Finally, I found you.”

“Uhuh.”

His eyes were focused on the drawing. “Are you happy too?”

I didn’t answer. I just recalled that in the drawing, I was staring at everyone else.

He looked up at me and asked again, “Are you?”

“Sure.” He seemed guilty for asking and his gaze fell back down onto my sketchbook. “Are you done comparing your drawings?” I asked.

The question caught him off guard. “Huh? I-I don’t know,” he paused, “here . . .”

After getting up and giving me back my sketchbook. he stared into me, obvious he was wondering about the drawing. I looked down, not able to meet his eyes for so long.

“I’m sorry,” was all I heard, but I could barely even hear it because it was like a whisper.

“It’s okay,” I told him and I heard him walk away. 

I did too.

  
  


The next day, I sat down in my spot to finishing reading the book I started last night. He was there too, sketching like the usual.

“I want to say that your drawings are actually not too bad,” he surprisingly complimented. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Snow White.”

I barely heard it. I wasn’t too sure if he did say it, but right now, I didn’t care. There were other things on my mind.

 

I continued to go to the gardens, but honestly, I was only half-present. I kept thinking about  _ him _ \- no, not Nick- and it kept my head so far up in the clouds. 

I missed a day, and when I came back, rose boy immediately started to interrogate me.

“Where were you yesterday?” he asked as if he was my mother.

“Went out with somebody.”

“Went out?”

“Yeah,” I blatantly replied.

“Went out where?”

“A restaurant.”

“Went out with your Prince Charming, huh?”

My gaze drifted to a flower next to him, almost the same tint of blue as his eyes.

“Basically.”

“Oh,” he replied, clearly shocked.

“What?” I wondered aloud.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t think my guess would be correct.”

“Well, it’s not official anyway.”

“He’s gonna save you when you eat my poison apple,” and when he said that, it established our roles with each other.

I just shrugged at him though. “Maybe; maybe not.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, picked up his pencil and started to sketch so hard, I could hear the paper beg for mercy. My phone vibrated and I checked it. “Waiting for him to text you or something?”

“He already texted me.”

“Huh,” he simply replied, then went back to mercilessly tattooing the pages. I got up after reading the message. “Where are you going?” he asked in an almost childlike manner.

“Out.”

“Don’t-”

I was already gone by the time he could’ve finished his sentence. I was starting to suspect things with Nick, and they weren’t good things. Not at all.

  
  
  


I came back the next afternoon to find him sitting and hugging his legs. He didn’t bother looking up when I came up near him. I wondered too much about him. When I sat next to him, he turned to face me, looking like Death himself, but I decided to say nothing about it.

“Can you not be mean to me for five minutes?” I asked.

“Okay . . . five minutes.” Even his voice sounded like a worn out record. 

“I need your help with the project.”

“Alright, what do you need help with?” he replied as if it was so tiring to be speaking at all.

“Everything.”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice fading as he sat up a bit. “What’s the subject you’re gonna be using for all the three mediums?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s something you really like?” he asked with more life.

“Um, food,” I answered.

“Okay, a food,” he paused, “uh, maybe you could do- what’s your favorite fruit?”

“Strawberry,” I answered honestly.

“Okay, so strawberry in pencil, acrylic, and watercolor. If you ever need any materials, come find me at,” and as all of this was happening, I couldn’t help but wonder think about why  he was oddly being genuinely nice to me, which slightly backs up one of my suspicions. “But most of the time, I’m really out here if you need tips and guidance.”

“Do you mean that or are you just pretending for five minutes?”

“I-” he thought about it, “mean it.”

“How do I know that’s not acting?” I questioned him.

“How do you want me to prove it, Snow White?”

“Say it after the five minutes are over.”

He sighed. “But is there anything I can help you with right now?”

“Not really,” I answered.

It was silent for a moment, -no, it felt more than that. Less than a while, but way more than a moment.    

“Hey, since I looked at your sketchbook, I think it’d only be fair you look at mine,” he told me and slowly slid the book over to me.

I looked at him for a second, pondering why he was even bothering to care about fairness. Oh, nevermind, he’s just being a showoff right now.

I picked it up and flipped through it. In the corner, he had all the dates in. It started off with clean pen doodles of plants-the aesthetic like ones- and it was calming to look through. As I went through it, the pages became less clean and there were more frustrated scribbles of him attempting to draw what looks like . . . the Snow White Panda.

And then I saw it. Or should I say I saw me. It was much sketchier than all the previous drawings in pen and seem to have been drawn angrily. There was the one of me in the restaurant, and I remember that day. The day I didn’t breathe. 

I reached today’s page and all there was was a blank face in the corner of the page.

“Why do you have sketches of me?” I asked, looking up at him.

His gaze was far away. “‘Cause I want to,” he mumbled.

“You got angry at me when I drew you.”

I caught him there but his retort wasn’t what I’d usually expect from him. He was really making me wonder.

“ . . . I can take out all the sketches of you then if you don’t want me to have them,” he replied in a hushed tone.

“No, that’s okay,” I assured him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Why do you draw so forcibly? I can see the dents on the next page.”

“I get tense sometimes,” he whispered.

“From what?”

“Myself the most.”

This boy. I don’t understand him. He wasn’t like himself at all today, but that could be because we’re still in the five minute range.

“I don’t think you know my name yet, do you?”

“No, I don’t, Snow White.”

I chuckled. “Interesting.”

“What is it though?” he asked.

“Not telling.”

“But you know my name, huh.”

“Yeah,” I nonchalantly replied.

He echoed it back to me, with all life seemingly gone from the word. He pulled his hood on over, trying to cover as much of his face as he can. I heard him heavily breathing and he was staring down, not daring to look at me at all.

“Are you okay?” I asked with genuine concern. He didn’t answer and he simply pulled his hood over his face more. “Is it dangerous that I know your name?” 

He shook his head and his voice was so small, it made him seem small too.

“Go away,” he mumbled.

‘The five minutes over?” I asked. He replied with a slight nod and I got up. “You have to tell me though if you meant what you said or not.”

“I meant it, now go away,” he almost begged.

I looked at him one more time before walking out the gardens. Then I looked up at the sky, so grey and sad, as if it were about to rain.

  
  


The next day I’m back and the sky looked just as sad. 

But I brought a box with happiness and placed it in front of rose boy who seemed to be so far away. He came back and looked up at me.

“These poisoned strawberries, Snow White?”

“Yes, delicious ones,” I replied, silently glad he seemed to be back.

“Your boyfriend told you to give them to me, huh. Poison the hag before the hag poisons you.”

“Not officially my boyfriend,” I corrected him.

“Whatever. It’s gonna be official sooner or later, might as well start calling him that now.” He seemed to be so persistent on my boyfriend- not my boyfriend. Shit.

“Eh.” 

He refused to eat them even though I was trying to be nice, but of course. I really shouldn't be surprised. 

“You start the project yet?” he asked.

“Ish,” I sheepishly replied.

“What do you mean, ‘ish’?”

“I got a visual on how it’s gonna be, but it’s still not on paper.”

“Oh, gosh, Snow White. It’s due in five days.”

I nearly choked on my strawberry.

“Oh, I’m screwed.”

He sat up, serious about me getting my work done. “The graphite piece should only take you one day, spend two days on the acrylic, one and a half on water, and then spend the other half of the day adding final details to all of the pieces.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you need help later today, I’ll be in my dorm.”

“Now enjoy my fruits,” I insisted.

“Why are you trying to kill me? I’m trying to help you,” he teased.

“I’m eating it too,” I replied. He finally took one, but just stared at it. “Eat it,” I repeated.

He took a bit and closed his eyes, savoring the strawberry that almost as as red as his lips.

“I can taste the poison already,” he said.

“Good.”

He lazily rubbed his eye and sat there, hunched over, slowly drifting away again, but I had no need to bring him back.He slowly picked up his sketchbook and opened it to a blank page. He wrote down the date and stared at the blank space.

“Do you want me to leave?” I questioned.

“Nah, I’m sure you’d want to stay and watch me slowly die from the poison,” he answered, not looking up from the book.

“No, it’s okay.”

“Well, if you left, I’d have no one to annoy.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Not for me.”

“Saves your time,” I argued.

“I have no time to save.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I mean, there’s nothing I need to do so,” he clarified.

“If you have nothing to do, why are you still here?”

“I like it here. It’s peaceful; away from all the other people that annoy the fuck out of me.”

“Then, I should leave,” I tested him.

“I still need someone to annoy, Snow White.”

“I’m just gonna annoy you.”

“I’m better at annoying people,” he persisted in getting me to stay.

“This is the longest I’ve talked to you.”

He looked up from his sketchbook, eyes cloudy. “I’m sure I’ve annoyed you for a longer time.”

“Nah.”

“Well, I’ve been off lately then.”

“Do you not like chocolate dipped strawberries?” I asked, looking at the boxes with three more strawberries in it.

“I do.”

He went back to looking at his sketchbook, pen hovering above the page. I just stared with him as he continued to not do anything. The silence abided uncomfortably in the air. I bet it got to Nick because he loudly shut his sketchbook and slid it aside.

“Why strawberries?”

“I love strawberries.”

“Funny enough, Snow White, I love apples,” he said, unexpectedly trying to make casual conversation.

“Apples are eh.”

“What about mangoes?” he wondered aloud.

“Love them.”

He chuckled. “Me too,” he replied and picked up his sketchbook and started to sketch mangoes.

“Do you not hang out with your friends or something?” I asked, if he even  _ had  _ any friends.

“People here irritate me too much.”

“A misanthrope,” I concluded.

“I suppose you could call me that.” I chuckled. “What about you? Why are you here and not with your friends?” he asked.

“Because people told me you have a crush on me.”

“Wh-what?” he said, a little blushy; inciting the response I wanted. “Who the fuck said that bullshit. I swear-”

I laughed at his sudden defensiveness. “I’m just messing with you.”

“You better be because if I found out that someone actually started saying that, I’m going to lose my shit on whoever started it.”

The light-heartedness in the art faded.

“Am I that bad?”

“Not as much as most, Snow White,” he replied.

“It’s okay. I know I am.”

“You’re not,” he sternly insisted.

“You don’t have to lie,” I assured him.

“I haven’t told you to fuck off yet. You’re not too bad okay.”

“Oookay,” I replied.

He checked his phone for a moment before stuffing it back in his pocket. “I have shit to do, Snow White,” he told me, and tore out the page from today. He set it on my lap before getting up and leaving. 

“Bye,” I muttered. I looked at all the doodles from today and at that moment, I wished I wasn’t right.


End file.
